


Maintenance Work

by sugartrash



Series: Break Sugar's Block [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chastity Device, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink, Loyalty, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugartrash/pseuds/sugartrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"I feel it would be an effective form of maintenance for what has traditionally been a very close relationship between you and I."</p>
</blockquote>Concerned that his relationship with Vanessa might lead to a weaker bond with Wesley, Fisk enacts a solution to maintain their relationship on a new, more intimate, level.<p>Prompt: Chastity Devices (slash, 1000+ words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maintenance Work

"You'd like me to wear this, sir?" Wesley held in his hands a black leather box, lined in blue velvet that cradled a silver device. He was only able to identify its purpose thanks to researching companies that produced adult entertainment devices in order to facilitate the shipping of illicit items used for...other forms of adult entertainment.

"Yes. I feel it would be an effective form of maintenance for what has traditionally been a very close relationship between you and I." Fisk lounged in a large black chair, looking out over the city. Lounging. Feigning relaxation. Wesley could only read hints of his expression in his reflection in the glass that separated them from the world. Likewise, he knew Fisk could read him and read him well. "I have been concerned that my attention to Vanessa has eroded the necessary intimacy between us."

"Sir, I am very happy for you and--" Wesley shut up the moment Fisk raised the index finger of his left hand.

"I have no doubt. You are a dear friend to me, you would not complain, not until the point that some sliver of resentment pierced your heart--and rightly so. But by then it is too late." Fisk's eyes flicked to his in their darkened reflections held in the window. "I will not neglect my human assets, those closest to me, neither you nor Vanessa. Put it on."

"Sir, if I might ask a question." Wesley set the box on the table by Fisk's elbow. Fisk had not indicated that he should leave to put it on. He had nothing to hide from Fisk.

"You may." Fisk watched him now, not his reflection.

"I do apologize if I offend, sir. But. Does she know about this?" The last thing Wesley wanted was to attract her ire. In her way, she was more dangerous than Fisk.

"Yes. I do not keep secrets from her. And I'm hardly offended." Fisk tapped the arm of the chair slowly, a pensive rhythm. "You are protective of her. Or, at least, of the relationship. Even if it might be to your detriment. My concerns were not unfounded, Wesley. Now put it on."

"Sir." Wesley exhaled slowly and unzipped his fly. Beneath it, and his silk boxers, he was half hard. The arousal was both inexplicable and inconvenient. Even when he was flaccid, the fit would be close.

"Come here." Fisk set his scotch down and beckoned for Wesley to stand in front of him. He seemed marginally impatient and Wesley's erection thickened in response to both the demand and the flicker of emotion. "I will be seeing to your maintenance, I do not expect you to go without relief. We may as well begin now."

"Yes, sir." Wesley did as he was told, stepping around to stand between Fisk's feet, cock and balls exposed. The unknown yawned before him in Fisk's impassive stare. His bones felt like ice water, his palms were wet, his stomach clenched with a surge of vertigo.

"You may want to remove your glasses," Fisk said neutrally. He planted his huge hands on the arms of his chair and sat up straighter.

"Sir." Wesley's hands were shaking as he fumbled them off his face. He barely managed to get them into the breast pocket of his suit. And, in spite of his terror, he was fully erect now, aching for release. His breath felt too short, the brush of his nipples against his shirt every time he inhaled was a cruel tease.

"I'm sure we'll become more efficient in time." Fisk pulled a fine cotton handkerchief from inside his jacket. Once he'd shaken it out, he tucked a corner of it into his unbuttoned collar. "Don't concern yourself with keeping quiet. I prefer you don't, in fact."

Wesley was going to say something affirmative but then, unexpectedly--what had he been expecting?--his cock was deep in the wet heat of Fisk's mouth and he cried out in surprise and pleasure. He couldn't look at Fisk, couldn't bear the obscenity of his cock pushing into the slick, red ring of Fisk's lips. It was horrifyingly perverse and delicious at once.

He covered his face with his hands, arching with pleasure, muffling his moans until he remembered what Fisk had said about not being quiet. He pulled his hands away and let his unfettered, raw noises fill the room. "God. Sir. Please. Fuck." His hips pumped in spite of him and Fisk let him have at it, let him fuck, without protest.

The humiliation of being so undone would have been unbearable if it weren't for the pleasure of it, the pleasure of Fisk's soft, hot mouth suckling him. Fisk's tongue was thick and demanding against the head of his cock, probing the slit, curling against the underside until Wesley shook with the tension of his building orgasm. Fisk made a single noise distinct from the wet slop of Wesley fucking his mouth, a slight sound of approval. Go on.

"Your mouth. Oh, God. Better than anything, sir. I don't deserve..." Wesley's words were lost in a wave of pleasure and pain as Fisk gripped his balls in one powerful hand, punishing him gently for misspeaking. Fisk controlled him completely like this, could crush his balls as easily as caress them.

Fisk swallowed him down like a demand, consumed him and claimed him, and that was too much. Wesley orgasmed with a wail, hands twisting in his own hair, body drawn taut like a bow by ecstasy. Fisk's lips and throat milked him until he was utterly drained and shaking with sensitivity, then he was released.

"That should suffice," Fisk said flatly, wrapping Wesley's shrinking cock in the handkerchief to work the last of the come from it. "The cage will fit you now." The metal was painfully cold when Fisk locked the cage on him but Wesley endured without flinching.

"Thank you, sir," he said at last, forcing his voice to obey him. When Fisk let him go, he stepped back a pace, still trembling, so he could straighten his clothes and pull himself back together.

"I will be giving you a key in case of emergencies." Fisk folded the handkerchief, then tucked it away. From inside his jacket, he withdrew a small jeweller's box which he tucked into Wesley's jacket pocket as Wesley was doing up his fly. "Here. I prefer the look of the brass lock. It conveys more of a commitment, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. Plastic would seem crass." Wesley ran a hand over the front of his pants, feeling the cage and the tiny lock tucked to the side. A rush of arousal left him shivering. This was going to be torment.

"I expect you to schedule meetings for your relief." Fisk's look over the rim of his scotch glass was nothing short of stern. "Time in the limousine could be put to good use when necessary but I expect you not to short-change yourself. The purpose is to remind you of my commitment to you as much as yours to me. This was more perfunctory than I would have liked but you need to be across the city in a half hour, do you not?"

"Yes, I do." Wesley slipped his glasses back on, then checked his watch. "I should leave now to avoid being late."

"The car is waiting." Fisk relaxed--actually relaxed--back into his chair. "You know where I am if you need me, Wesley. Nothing will change that. I promise you."


End file.
